An Ambien Knock Off

Did not I cast the first stone  And then justify the blame
Did not I cast the first stone
And then justify the blame

What if I came at you with such loose labels as; fag, dyke, nigger, towelhead?
Where did the labels and the name calling begin? Does it sit with me, a woman deemed by many to have no soul, a romantic vulture and/or a narcissist who is in it to win it?
Has my ego became so large that what seems like a Robin Hood idealism is nothing but a poorly painted shell without a psyche? Had I given into the thought of turning the tables? Helping a baby dyke with diaper changing? Allowed for a path to be shown and to which, every Ambien volunteer could veer right or left. Was the purposeful lesson of ‘dignity for all’ an idea that started from within and, slowing given the option to be drawn upon a photographer’s lens with no right or wrong picture…
Indeed, am I politically correct to consider my own kind denouncing ME and US by their own admission of ignorance and indifference a vagrant’s vain attempt of learning through osmosis?
Had I offered the nakedness of picture taking perfect as an easy out? A simplictic yes or no answer? A fourth grader’s mechanical choice of right or wrong?
Because my spotted calf had chosen what sat behind door number one, homophobic lesbianism,on her own…she personally went about slicing the throats of all who walked a similar beat. A decision made for the sake of ‘the highest reward’ a parent’s grace.
Had all the obvious roads not taken been made more childlike, a toddler would have sat in my bed. But that was not the case.
If there is not an equation set before the dumbfounded and confused what there ever be an answer? And,, does anyone have the right to choose our rights by ignoring the hard-earned paths of others.
Philanderer, philosopher or plain old, sex fiend…I suppose that would be a tough call.
Yet, when the offer of an open door policy is erected within the rules of couple-dom, is it not the choice that makes us moral or not?
I have decided this:
To an extent to which there have been so much bullying by indifference that a Pavlov’s Dog needed to come to life.
I hung the treat in front of the young and naïve subject’s mouth and offered reward and/or punishment.
How can it be when given these options there is no right or wrong, just a simple and complete means to an end:
Choosing to work legitimately as most adults do/ Opting to work without acknowledgement of tax and therefore, indeed taking food from the mouths of the poor.
AmeriCorps/VISTA/FEMA exploiting the good nature of her republic by ignoring the simple facts; partying, dancing, karaoke, free housing and 24/7 access to social media versus: volunteering without pay for the sake of volunteering without need for reward other than self fulfillment.
Opting to choose the consequences of our behavior and/or hiding behind labels and faulty advertisement and hidden surnames.
We all have choices!
Point of the matter, the lack of prayer in the classroom, the distance between war and peace, the hatred for each other that derives itself from an unknown origin, all stems from our own ability to evade the choice which maybe difficult. The ulterior motives in all of us, once laid out like a fresh turd on a hot’s summer’s day is our downfall.
The Ambien’s, the Annie‘s, the Brittany‘s and the Jeremy‘s of our nation’s newest real reality show are but simple knock offs. For it is far easier to fashion one’s self to difference than proclaim the choice ourselves

we are only what our choices allow us to be
we are only what our choices allow us to be


Diaries of a Sex Addict

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Orgasm Addict
Orgasm Addict (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Excerpt from the taunting sex tales of ambiguity amongst Gracie Willams of the world:

I like it when someone’s full weight is on me when I give myself an orgasm. It amuses me and my ego when someone gets off watching me get off. Almost like letting someone see the real you and than pulling the curtain shut!
ha-ha just wait till you get me to orgasm its weird looking ha-ha-ha! I contort, shake and my face gets puffy and swollen. A sight to scare the sexual-ness out of any formidable lover.
I just can’t get my body to relax when I’m fucking someone. Some have come close to giving me what I want…but than I just drift away to my own little world.

I have fucked over 220 times in a matter of four or five months. And, it was all the same thing.
I don’t know how many times I’ve used these lines. To me it’s just another day not in paradise:

…you don’t have to make me orgasm to make me happy.

…you get me weak in the knees when your in me, you give me goose bumps, you get my nipples hard

…your doing so much better than anyone I’ve have slept with

…you are doing everything right, its me

…I think I have a back of the mind fear of letting myself go

And, so it goes to Kate the psycho-bitch and my pleas for pleasing:

…no body has ever gotten that close with me. you made my body feel amazing. I can still feel the essence of your fingers in me and your shoulder and head on my stomach pulling your finger in and out of me

…you made me extremely happy….until we got caught by the police and then I was disappointed ha-ha

I adore it when it’s rough. I feel I deserve it. I witness my mother’s stoic head looming above my love victims. I hear her same old song and dance…Ambien, no one will ever love you. You are unlovable.
Sex, sex and more wonton, sex. The volunteering has put some showers on the self-love. However, late at night when I turn my anger inwards, I find myself taking care of my own business, like nobody’s business. Who knows? Maybe, a Brittany, Amber, Mercedes or Jeremy might want to just sit and watch.
It’s so hard to find good help now a days!

limitless are the travels with Annie Grace
limitless are the travels with Annie Grace/